Unatoned
by Cescalia
Summary: Ladybug has suddenly disappeared and Chat Noir has been left to fight akumas alone for years until she returns. In light of this event, things are set into motion that may have consequences neither of the heroes are wholly prepared to face. Based on "Grande Messe des Morts" requiem by Berlioz.


**_All flesh shall come to you._** _  
Ad te omnis caro veniet._

"Look at what the cat dragged in!"

Chat Noir snarled in the face of the akumatised victim, who was dressed in black and silver, artificial arms shaped as metal knives extending out from his shoulder blades. The hands of the temporary villain were covered in leather gloves, attached by hooks. It seemed as if the sharp-edged metal substituted for bone.

The akuma called Blade Runner–apparently Hawk Moth had a thing for American Sci-Fi movies–had terrorised Paris for a few hours already and Chat was exhausted from going through this many transformations in the course of such a short period.

Fortunately, aside from the wrecked wall of the building of the hardware store and a couple deformed street curb stones nothing else seemed to be misshapen so far. Not many expenses needed to be covered. As long as Hawk Moth's identity was unknown, the aggrieved could only take the local authority or the state to court to get a pathetic sum of reimbursement, which meant that these lawsuits were in large number pending cases, keeping this status until Hawk Moth was put under arrest.

Being completely worn out didn't prevent Chat from fighting until his body ceased to cooperate and got pushed to its limits. The fear that the possessed person could cut an innocent in half was sickening–he couldn't let it happen. Even if Hawk Moth restrained his victim, Chat couldn't take any chances. The akumatised man had so far only managed to tear rips in the clothes of the few unfortunate civilians who happened to be in his way, occasionally drawing a little blood, yet he was capable of much more.

"I wouldn't want to sound _catty_ , but you appear to be on _edge_!"

" _Oh_ , kitty strikes back without any _luck_! Speaking of luck, where is your _partner_?" Blade Runner spit the words out. "Oh, right, she left you. Gone, rotting in mud prob–"Chat hit him in the stomach with his baton, cutting him off, and Blade Runner stumbled back, caught off guard by the strength of the blow.

"You are _nothing_."

Chat knew he was only trying to rile him up by mentioning Ladybug and not letting him forget about the vacant spot beside him. They always did. Every single one of them.

Hawk Moth became more restless in time and he lashed his anger out on him, because he was there, whereas Ladybug was not. And he appeared to be damn certain that Chat knew her location, but didn't reveal it, so driving Chat to insanity with the insults directed to Ladybug was the best course of action according to him.

He didn't _know_.

He had also thought Hawkmoth was going to think emotionally, but he was not. He was thinking strategically. Instead of creating akumas to cause havoc and destroying Paris in the process in the meantime, Hawk Moth was using Chat Noir as leverage, a bait for Ladybug. He focused akuma attacks only on him, because he knew if he succeeded in defeating Chat, Ladybug would have no choice, but to come back. It was a scary day when Hawk Moth started making intelligent decisions.

Despite everything, there was a man behind the mask, whose own life was affected by the economy and the state of the city. It wouldn't have done him any good to let akumas roam around with no way to reverse the damage. So, he had opted for going for the weak-willed individuals, who could be persuaded to leave their revenge fantasies aside and direct their abilities towards luring Ladybug out for the ultimate face off.

Chat called for cataclysm, hopefully the last one of that day. He wasn't sure, if he could keep the struggle up any longer. Solely focusing on Blade Runner's movements, Chat tuned out the conversation–he couldn't be distracted nor let the words get to him.

"Without your ring _you_ are less than nothing, be an obedient kitty and hand it over," the villain continued, taunting him with a sneer.

Regarding him with an emotionless look, Chat pressed his hand onto the stone wall next to Blade Runner, making the stones crumble down, which distracted the akumatised man enough for Chat to creep closer to the object he had to retrieve. He had no choice but to trust his instincts that it was the only thing that made sense for the akuma to reside in.

He had always been a distraction, a catalyst, designed to act to accommodate Ladybug's needs and give her room to make up a plan and figure out the object. He only contributed his fighting skills, while being kept in dark about anything else, which often prompted him to feel discouraged. Now, everything depended on him whether he liked it or not.

"Good luck with that! You won't get a _slice_ of this cat." Chat shifted to his side and bent his back, crouching down to yank at the thin silver belt the man had wrapped around his hips. That much power was exhausting, corruptive and not given away easily unless forcibly taken. He tore the belt violently apart and caught the escaping butterfly in his claws.

The akuma was defeated.

In the place of a horrific creature with razor blade hands and sharpened teeth stood a young man in his mid-twenties, confusion shadowing his face.

The man was wearing a suit and his hair that had been unruly moments ago was combed back and slick–undeniably by cause of hair gel. A small dark red line was scarring his chin, cut with a razor while shaving.

The reasons for people getting akumatised were becoming more and more ridiculous as the time passed by, but their abilities grew alarming. Hawk Moth didn't give a damn about hurting any innocents that could have been in the wrong place when his only goal was to retrieve his Miraculous.

With a slight pang in his heart Chat examined the man kneeling in front of him. He put a hand firmly on his shoulder, which prompted the recent victim of Hawk Moth to look up. He seemed to be ashamed that he had let his emotions overrule his mind and gave Hawk Moth access to get into his head and take control.

The citizens knew the risks of becoming possessed. The damage couldn't be repaired. Without Ladybug, Paris had suffered. The local extra taxes amounted to almost 19% of the full tax sum, which enraged the citizens, but which was a necessary change. The debts had increased tenfold compared to other cities as the reparation costs were enormous. People had been moving out of Paris in masses. Every day, the citizens dragged their feet forward with dread set in their stomachs.

The city council had even decided to cut the enormous budget that paid for the lighting of the Eiffel Tower during night hours, along with other tourism objects. People's protests and the future of the city pushed the government's backs against the wall and made them finally lower the costs of living along with taking a chunk out of the massive amount of money that was spent on the city's image and branding.

There were casualties, and that was why Chat willingly let the guilt wash over him.

The memories would still remain and haunt the victims. People were solely relying on Chat Noir. Nowadays, he was the only one, who could temporarily stop the horrors and evil's reign. He could at least free the unlucky person, whose mind was tempted by Hawk Moth.

Chat gave the man a curt nod, assuring that he didn't hold it against him.

"Did you see or hear anything?" The man had tears in his eyes, painfully reminded of his actions, but he shaked his head in response to Chat's question.

"He didn't say anything excessive, but I'm sure…I'm sure I heard his feet shuffling, when he grew impatient with me."

Hawk Moth didn't usually move while he was controlling his victims and he was always careful not to say anything irrational. Searching for Hawk Moth's hideout seemed to be the only thing helping Chat Noir not feel completely useless after Ladybug's disappearance. If he couldn't go for Hawk Moth himself, he would do his best to go for his castle.

He had almost gotten to a point where he started to think he knew the man, because he spent every day of his life thinking about him to find out what he was doing. But in the end, he had to have realised there was nothing to feel sorry for.

As the memories were preserved, the akumatised people remembered Hawk Moth's words that had been spoken in their minds. Chat gradually got closer to finding him and stopping the terror.

"How did you hear it?"

"It echoed, quite hard to miss."

He finally had a lead, even if it was almost non-existent. The room in which the monster resided in had to be mostly empty and perhaps large with a high ceiling. Perhaps a studio, observatory or a cathedral.

Chat expressed his gratitude to the man for his statements and removed himself from the scene, leaving behind a crowd of reporters, who parted in apprehension.

He never gave comments.

He was stopped by a hand on his forearm, so he turned around to firmly tell the person to let him go. It was the chief of police, so he was at least willing to listen to what he had to say before leaving.

"There's a group of former akuma victims claiming they found out Hawk Moth's identity." That was an unexpected course of events. Once in a while people came up with theories of Hawk Moth's persona and few times people had even been arrested, but discharged after futile interrogations and lack of evidence.

Before Chat could ask him how these people had a suspect, a reporter behind the chief spoke up.

"They know him by his voice!"

Chat sighed. "If there is no evidence, you cannot accuse them of committing these deeds. Recognising a person by his voice is already difficult by itself. I'm afraid there aren't enough grounds to arrest them."

The citizens provided him a little hope only to tear it up and twist it around into something he could only describe as disappointing. He didn't have energy to fully react anymore.

"I tried to tell them, but they wanted to hear it from you," the chief agreed, nodding. He couldn't blame people for trying to stop Hawk Moth's actions. Everyone was hoping for his downfall. People grew restless with every following day.

The raspy wings of the tainted butterfly fluttered in his hand, which he had curled into a firm fist. It was easier to crush them in an instant, but he didn't want to risk hurting Hawk Moth's kwami. He didn't believe for one second that the kwami itself was evil. The root of it surely lay in the messed up man, who didn't know when to stop or how to deal with his issues like normal people.

One would have to wonder when Hawk Moth would finally run out of the butterflies. Taking into account the hundreds he had locked up in his apartment–not yet.

For an unknown reason he was still hoping that one day Ladybug would be back cleansing the evil and restoring the city. The odds were not sacred law.

The first few weeks fighting alone, he had been swarmed with reporters who were wondering about the missing heroine and he had been at loss of what to say. He excused her lack of presence by simply saying she was out of town and would be back soon–there was no need to worry.

The Parisians were bewildered and disbelieving, but they had accepted the fact, trusting him, and they had looked forward to her reappearance, although the unrepaired damage of the fights was disturbing. They thought that he was aware of her whereabouts, having no reason to doubt his statements. They had trusted him and he had let them down.

It went downhill from there. Months passed by and the hollow look that settled in Chat's eyes, him shutting himself off and avoiding the public eye, told them all they needed to know. When he appeared alone, he shouldn't be disturbed.

Ladybug was no more.

He was a free agent, one man band now. It was a difficult position to be in as it wasn't a short term job. He wasn't joined by anyone else–he suspected it was largely due to the fact that Ladybug held the rest of the miraculous objects in her possession and refused to involve another civilian.

Although people were desperate for answers, some kind of closure, they mourned the loss of their protector in silence. They had accepted that it was the most probable that she was completely gone, but they still dreamed of a brighter future.

It was futile to bother Chat about this as he only interacted with the akuma victims and only addressed severe matters to the public, such as the threat of Hawk Moth being permanent and an order to stay away from the villains to avoid becoming collateral damage in the attacks.

There were few reporters who made up lies about Ladybug to damage her _spotless_ reputation. In their words, she was the traitor to the people of Paris and by extension Chat Noir shouldn't have been allowed to protect Paris any longer as he wasn't capable of performing his duties alone. It's a funny world they were living in. As if there was anyone else better suited for the job. Magical problems required magical solutions.

When the lies were first published in media, Adrien hadn't been focusing on that particular section of the news outlets, and so he wouldn't have heard about it before it spread like wildfire. He was offered to attend a TV special to rebuke the inappropriate commentary on his voluntary service, but he turned it down without a second thought. He didn't care for gossip and if it was not an important topic that had to be unquestionably discussed–most often involving the general safety and prosperity–he had no interest in giving interviews.

By the time other civilians and influential public figures had joined in sharing their opinion and supported the controversial views of these journalists, Ladybug was chided and treated as if she was at fault for the destruction and fatalities. It was easier to blame someone who wasn't able to defend themselves.

It got so out of control that the mayor organised a press conference and pleaded with him to appease the crowd. Mayor and the city administration fully supported him and his actions, providing him with everything he needed and arranged the crime lookout missions, so he was notified instantly when the akuma appeared. That time, he accepted the invitation to regain the respect of general public.

Chat extended his baton and jumped off in the direction of his apartment. It had gotten late by the looks of the pink sky that dwelt light grey stratocumulus clouds. It would have been a quiet night. After a few hours, he would have been strolling on the rooftops breathing in the crisp air.

Sliding through the window and landing gracefully on his living room floor, he purposefully walked toward the place where he stored the vile akumas. He carefully sealed the recent one and proceeded to slump on the couch in exhaustion, dropping his transformation in the process.

He dreaded being there, alone with his thoughts.

Moving out of the mansion had helped him a lot, not having to bear the cold empty halls and his father never being around. Adrien wasn't even sure if he missed him, last couple of years he had been acting oddly around him, showing more interest in where he was going, but still keeping his distance. Adrien didn't ask.

Now that he thought about it, the strange behaviour had started way before Ladybug disappeared. Maybe even in the collège, but he had reasoned it was from him attending public school and being around all kinds of different people with unknown intentions. Gabriel did everything to shield Adrien from the world.

Taking out his physics book, he attempted to study and ignore his wondering mind.

The days in the university passed in a haze. It was what he had always wanted–freedom and the ability to choose what he wished to do without any restrictions. He hadn't imagined he would spend the supposedly most exciting time of his life alone.

He had his acquaintances in college. They respected him, but were never close enough for him to consider them as friends. Moreover, by his final year until he got his Master's degree, so many students had dropped out and the course only had around ten people left. He truly missed his friends from lycée.

After graduation their tight friend group had fallen apart. He couldn't blame them, they all had chosen their own way.

Nino had pursued a career in the music department abroad in London–they still kept in touch through social media and Skype and once in a blue moon even met up, but it was barely any interaction.

For a reason Adrien didn't understand, Nino and Alya were still going strong, their relationship on hold, but not any less passionate. They really were the odd exception to the tendency that long distance relationships didn't work out.

Alya had become a closer friend than he had anticipated, living in the suburbs of Paris and going all out to get a degree in journalism. Before graduation they hadn't communicated a lot, except for the occasional Ladybug related topics and through Nino, but now he found her to be the only person still keeping his feet on the ground and not letting him forget that their group would get back together eventually.

That brought him to think about her-Marinette. He hadn't heard from her for four years. He knew that Alya was avoiding the topic and he didn't pry, but he couldn't say that he wasn't concerned. The last he heard of her was the summer break after graduation and she had seemed happy to be enrolling in one of the most prestigious fashion schools and follow her dream to become an aspiring designer.

He hadn't encountered her even once in the city. She had probably changed her mind, but this didn't explain why she completely avoided talking to anyone. And why she didn't tell any of them about it. The lack of response on her part was unsettling, but regretfully he let it go.

Once when he found time to visit Marinette's parents' bakery he made a mistake asking how she was doing. They had been happy to see him and had given him a discount on their baked goods–the discount he absolutely didn't need–but the topic of their daughter seemed to be delicate.

In their words, Marinette actually _had_ enrolled in fashion school, but not in Paris. She had shut down all of her social media and wished to concentrate and focus only on her studies. They asked him not to try to contact her–if she wanted to, she would do it in her own time. She never did, so he accepted that their friendship had run its course. Sometimes it just happened.

He hadn't seen Marinette almost as long as Ladybug. He had wondered about the possibility of them being the same person, but had shrugged it off without further thought. The dates could have been entirely coincidental. He had noticed some similarities between the two girls, but in the end, he realised they were too different for them not to be separate people.

It seemed as if his mind always brought him to think about Ladybug. He couldn't escape it, he had spent sleepless nights on pondering over his thoughts and cried too much to even feel any emotions properly now. It was always a no-exit road.

She had left and never returned. He couldn't even say goodbye. It had been just like how it had been with his mother. One day she was there and then gone without a trace.

In past, his lack of maturity prevented him from fully taking on the responsibility of being a hero and the related duties. He didn't have the luxury to take things lightly or slack off anymore. This was something larger than himself.

That evening, when she didn't show up on their scheduled patrol he had thought that she was avoiding him and tried not to think about it. He hadn't had a chance to transform which had led to Ladybug fighting the akuma alone. She had every right to be angry with him for not being there, but she would have come around and it would have been okay. They would have been okay.

They fought and then they always made up, they couldn't afford to drift apart from each other. It was difficult to admit it, but they had become too dependent and now he had to face the hard reality that one of them was not always going to be able to swoop in and save the other.

He waited for days, days became weeks, which became months. The cat that walked by himself, _toujours en vedette_. She wasn't coming back and he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was very wrong.

Not a single word from her for four years.

No one answered his introverted yet inwardly desperate pleas, awaiting for reconciliation. He could have screamed his lungs out, cried his eyes out, but he wasn't doing any of that.

The first weeks were the worst time of his life. It had never been harder to fight off the akumas that were still terrorizing the city. The public attention, the countless and never ending questions about Ladybug's whereabouts and the despair that echoed on the citizens' faces, when they realized the damage couldn't be repaired–it was tearing him apart and the only way to cope with it had been throwing himself into work.

As it had been the summer break before he was allowed to enrol in the University of Technology and learn physics, the modelling shoots were a continuous part of his routine. For once, he didn't mind them, even cherished the opportunity to take his mind off the hurtful things.

While he had persuaded his father to let him go to college on the condition that he continued doing the model work and keep one hobby–he had chosen fencing as playing the piano drained him and the basketball had never been enticing–convincing him that moving out was a good idea was much more difficult. His father was clearly pressuring him to make him feel the exact way he had been feeling for years, trapped.

After a few months of constant pleading and stooping down to the level of threatening to ruin his reputation by being insufferable and difficult to work with on set, his father gave in. Gabriel Agreste had peered him over his glasses, scowl on his face, but he had reluctantly agreed. Staying away from his old mansion was what he needed.

Sometimes he allowed his mind to run in the course of remembering her. Her blue and bright eyes that had looked at him teasingly, her laugh that had chimed when he had made another terrible pun, the way she had moved, like she had been gliding through the air.

He had never regretted anything that much before than not letting her know of his identity before it was too late. Her leaving him created an empty spot inside his chest that made him wonder if he actually knew her at all.

He glanced at the clock on the fridge and sighed as he still had a couple of hours until patrol. His whole life had become a routine. Classes, fighting an occasional akuma, accustomed patrol, sleep–he barely did anything in his free time, finding no interest in picking up another hobby. He made himself dive into his studies as it was distracting and educational.

As he still harboured strong feelings for someone who didn't return them, he was not ready to be dating either. He was not obligated to give anyone a chance. It was not doing any favours to anybody.

What is more, because of the nature of his work, he needed to have stricter rules about who he let in and who he didn't. After all, his duties as a superhero were demanding from an availability standpoint–he had to be able to leave on minimal notice. It was easier to let it go and accept the fact that he didn't need to invest time in something that was not going to work out in the long run.

In frustration, he pushed away his book and put it on the table, bringing his hands up to his face to brush away the tiredness that was seeping in. Studying was useless when his head was pounding. He could have taken a nap, not sure if it would work as he spent too many nights to count writhing in the sheets, nightmares plaguing his mind.

He clicked the button on the remote control and his TV screen lighted up showing a documentary about an expedition in the Himalayas. His body drooped on the couch and he lulled to dreamless slumber to the frames of high snow-capped mountains and the soft voiceover.

The blaring cell tone of his phone startled him and he abruptly sat up on the couch. He had dozed off after all and thankfully he had slept peacefully.

Pinching his eyes together, rubbing the sleep from them, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The loud sound was still ringing in Adrien's ears and he snatched up his phone on the table, squinting at the contact name. Alya.

Curiously, he swiped his finger to the right and accepted the call.

"Hey! What's up?"

He tried to sound cheerful for her sake, but in his groggy state he found it hard to say anything that didn't sound as if he had just rolled out of the bed.

"You wouldn't believe it. Check the Ladyblog," Alya said excitedly, which made Adrien's heart jolt. _'Ladyblog?'_

Alya didn't update the Ladyblog that often, only publishing short stories about the new villains and occasionally a few theories about what had happened to Ladybug, sometimes these involved condolences and support to Chat Noir. It helped, _a little_.

Setting the phone next to him and putting it on speaker, he strode towards his laptop that sat on the table and opened the lid. He messed up the password couple of times, because his fingers were typing too furiously, missing the right keys in process.

It could have been nothing. Alya could have called, because there was another akuma, even if the last one had only occurred a few hours prior, or there could have been another wild theory circling around. He didn't dare to hope for anything different. Yet, he was shaking in anticipation and hope.

Opening Ladyblog's page hesitantly, having it still favourited on his browser, he dreaded the outcome.

On the front page of the blog that had been mildly active the last years due to Ladybug's disappearance, there was a blurry photo of an unmistakably familiar red-suited heroine. Adrien blinked and automatically clicked on the post, hands trembling as he scrolled down to the content.

 _'Ladybug spotted on the roof of one of the buildings in Paris. Is it a hoax, a convincing cosplay or has the beloved heroine returned?'_ The headline read and Adrien gulped nervously, his throat suddenly dry and heart beating out of his chest.

The article that Alya had quickly written mentioned that one of the civilians had taken a picture of Ladybug's lookalike, ensuring that it looked remarkably accurate to the real Ladybug, not a cosplayer. She had supposedly been jumping cautiously from building to building with her yoyo, avoiding the public eye, but not as much as it would have been considered to be her hiding in general.

"I can't believe it. She was gone for four years, Adrien! No one knew what had happened to her and everyone suspected she might have passed away, but I never lost hope and look, she's back. She's actually back!" Alya couldn't get a grip on her excitement and Adrien imagined her jumping up and down in her own apartment.

Adrien grabbed the phone and held it against his ear after turning off the speaker option.

"Alya, can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm feeling a little bit overwhelmed."

"Of course." Alya knew that Adrien, as much as herself, was a huge Ladybug fan or at least used to be. She understood that while she had had time to process over the shocking information, he had found out just now. "But don't forget to call me back."

"Absolutely." He pressed the end call button and quickly read the rest of the article.

Reaching the end of the piece, Adrien looked at the digits on the fridge clock once more and wasting no time he called out for Plagg who had been sleeping on the bundle near the empty boxes that contained the high-priced cheese.

Swooping out of his window in the dark, he set to follow the quickest route to the spot that used to be Ladybug's and Chat Noir's meeting place before starting their usual patrol route four years ago.

He hadn't thought anything through. What would he even say, when he saw her? _If_ he saw her.

There was still a small voice nagging in the back of his mind, that it was false hope. Maybe she really was dead and he would just spill more salt on his wounds, not letting them heal and hoping for a miracle. He should have asked Plagg for confirmation, but Adrien had always acted recklessly.

He confessed to looking up the police reports of murders, accidents and the kind for months, before he settled only on the missing person reports. She couldn't be dead.

Plagg, not being a pain in the ass for once, had affirmed that there would have been another Ladybug if that was the case, knowing too well from experience. Adrien had a feeling he was hiding something from him, but Plagg wouldn't have yielded even if he had asked.

But no one like her was missing as well. Which meant that she had left and stayed away on her own will. He didn't know what to think about that revelation.

The sounds in the night seemed to become louder and louder the more he moved forward, running and jumping over the rooftops. It seemed as if the whole Paris was rejoicing, because of Ladybug's possible reappearance. Nothing was official and no one knew for certain. They shouldn't have been howling into the wind.

She might not even be there.

It was a huge possibility that she didn't want to see him, she may have not known to seek him out. What were the odds that she thought of him as much as he thought of her? He couldn't think clearly.

Reaching their customary meeting spot, he slowed down and cautiously stepped forward. Standing next to the bricked chimney, he peeked towards their usual spot. There was a shape near the other side of the roof and even though he was far from being able to see and recognise their features for certain, he knew right away.

It was her. It was _really_ her.

Ladybug was standing alone with her back turned towards him. Her hair, which he noticed was in a ponytail and slightly longer, brushing past her shoulders, was flowing in the air. The red ribbon wrapped around her hair moved lazily with the wind.

She stood in a confident pose, her hands curled in loose fists, shoulders back, and legs spread arms width.

A true heroine.

She was staring off into the distance, over the rooftops and the city lights. The Eiffel Tower ascended to the enormous height amidst the dark night sky, in which the dull orange still reflected the sunset from the clouds. He had to admit it was a _magnificent_ view.

When he gazed at the horizon, he always felt calm and sense of peace wash over him. It was easy to forget about the everyday troubles and commit fully and relentlessly to the wonderful girl, who used to be next to him, who could lift his spirits without any effort.

They had never really sat down and talked, even though there had been many opportunities. She always had a vague excuse to leave promptly after the necessary checkup or she didn't want to delay patrol. She couldn't spare a few moments just for themselves. It was as if she was afraid of opening up to him, getting too close to the ordinary boy under the mask.

Chat pressed down the urge to flee, before she saw him. He had no idea what to do or how to even look at her in the eye. He couldn't face her.

He only saw her backside, but that was enough for his heart to start racing and vertigo make his head spin around. His knees were shaking and he had to grab for support. He thought he might faint, as he was experiencing so many emotions simultaneously. He had to leave or he would get sick to his stomach and empty the contents onto some unfortunate person's roof.

He took a step back, but misjudged the distance between the edge of the building and his body, which resulted in him stumbling and losing his footing. The noise of the boots scraping the metal drainpipe startled Ladybug, who had turned around, looking for the source of the sound.

With the speed of the wind he had hid himself behind the brick wall, unseen by her. He held his hand over his chest, over the place his heart would have been, as if it could stop it from pounding against his rib cage with an intense force. Cursing himself for not being subtle and his bad luck ruining his moment to leave unnoticeably, he was frozen in apprehension. He didn't dare to move.

Still glued to the ground, blood was ringing in his ears, throat suddenly desert dry and he had to lick his lips to not feel as if he was choking. His back was pressed against the wall into which he wished to be fused. He was holding his baton in a death grip, a reminder for himself, just so he wouldn't completely lose himself right there.

He didn't know if she had moved closer to investigate the noise or not. He was cornered and had no escape route that would stay unnoticed by her.

The silence was cut with the soundly vibration that originated from his baton. She was calling him. There was no chance that she hadn't heard it. She knew he was there.

Chat squeezed his eyes shut–suddenly being ambushed by all of the feelings he had stored in–so as not to be swamped by the strong emotions that attached him to the girl, who had not been part of his life for years. His mind was flooded.

He imagined her coming closer, slowly, a dream from another life, an apparition. Her steps being cautious and quiet, as if she was a predator approaching her prey. Not wanting to scare it away.

It was difficult to restrain himself from doing something impulsive and keep his emotions under control.

Tears pricking his eyes, he squeezed his fist in frustration. He couldn't face her like that. She couldn't see him like that. Strategy or thinking straight were never his strong points. He was a distraction. He acted on impulse.

Extending his baton in inhuman speed he jumped off the building, running straight back the way he came from, not caring anymore if she saw him or not. He was a _coward_.

* * *

Adrien realised he had made a wrong choice, because he ached to be in her presence again. He couldn't shake the thought that she had needed him tonight as she had been on their patrol spot when she hadn't announced to anyone that she was back. She had deliberately sought him out.

Blocks away from the meeting place, he finally slowed down and caught his breath. _'Why did I do that?'_ He knew that if he saw her now, he would have said things that he'd regret later on.

Sick of losing his nerve every time he couldn't get her out of his mind, he sat down on the roof and buried his head in his hands. His shoulders were slumped and he looked at the ground. He was ashamed. Head bowed, he put his palm against his forehead, brushing the tips of his hair out of his face and wiping away the drops of glittering sweat.

She hadn't called again.

It would have been so easy to throw his arms around her delicate body, pressing her tightly against his chest, too euphoric to think about the feelings of hurt and betrayal her departure had swarmed in him. She was alive and it was the only thing that mattered.

Turning around, he navigated through the rooftops back to his apartment. Landing on the roof of his apartment building, he slid down and slipped through the window, releasing the transformation when his feet met the floor. Plagg floated away to his cheese rolls, understanding that Adrien needed a moment to clear his thoughts.

His phone, which he had left on the table buzzed, signalling a new notification coming through. Sighing in exasperation and running his fingers through his hair, he reached to unlock it and learn what kind of schedule changes his father had arranged for him through his assistant. He was amazed that Nathalie was still putting up with his orders.

The phone almost slipped out of his hands when he saw what she had typed. The photo shoot he had the next day, which was supposed to mark the successful end of the season and was supposedly one of the most important shoots of the year as the pictures always appeared in noted fashion magazines, was cancelled. Not postponed, but _cancelled_ , which was unheard of from Gabriel Agreste.

Of course, Adrien was still the face of the brand and his appearance was crucial to the quality of photos. He imagined his father would have done everything in his power to provide him with all the jobs that could possibly earn some amount of profit for the firm. Gabriel Agreste cancelling the shoot that influenced the course of the company for the next months every year would have caused an uproar without fail. Not to mention, he had done it with less than twelve hours notice.

The reason had to have greater importance than the risk of it setting an impact on the outcome of the brand's future, which could very well be negative due to there not being customary pictures embellishing the pages of the well-known magazines' spreads.

Not bothering to take a shower, he quickly brushed his teeth avoiding the mirror, afraid he wouldn't recognise himself with the hollow face and unkempt hair. He stripped down to his plain black boxers and lifted the cover to shift into his bed, exhausted from the day's events and Ladybug's reappearance.

Paris kept up the reputation of being a city full of broken hearts. He wasn't mending a broken heart, but judging by the way he had reacted to seeing her, he wasn't that sure anymore.

It was too much for him to handle right this moment. He was overwhelmed and unable to cope, so in response to stress, he checked out. He couldn't point out the exact time he fell asleep, but it had been quick.

As usually, his nights were accompanied by nightmares.

Heavy pressure on the chest, choking sensation, someone pressing on his bones. Grasping the sheets with his nails, wrinkling them up, almost tearing them apart, he tried to push down the tears and awful images. Waking up with a gasp, the beads of sweat rolled down his neck to his shoulder blades and he blinked his eyes open.

He hadn't woken up without a reason, the nightmares usually lasted whole night, not the lousy few hours according to his digital clock on his nightstand that showed him that the time was merely 2:02am. He didn't have classes nor a shoot the next day, because of the cancellation. Even if he had, he would have probably slept as much as he could, so as to stay awake on his feet throughout the day.

He could feel the night taking a turn. He was sure he had heard a noise coming from the other side of the door. His heart thumped low in his stomach, when he lastly made sense of the strange sound. He knew what it was.

The pattering of wings.

He should have known. Ladybug was back. Every news channel had without doubt included the breaking information in their evening broadcast. Paris was buzzing. It would have been _miraculous_ , if Hawk Moth hadn't found out by now.

He had made his move. Adrien realised with a fright that Hawk Moth was able to do it whenever he desired, but he had intentionally chosen this time, when Ladybug had returned and Adrien was emotionally distressed, his body was also still weak from the battle. The duo's relationship wasn't mended and they were likely out of sync.

Maybe this had been his plan all along. When the time was right, to dig the knife in. To strike the heroes at their weakest, to tire them out, before giving a devastating blow and acquire the jewels without much of a resistance provided. Hawk Moth hadn't given up once, he knew she would be back.

Or he had grasped at the opportunity that was currently offered to him on a silver platter.

Nonetheless, he was a _fucking bastard_.

By the time Adrien had leaped out of the bed and thrown his bedroom door open, almost breaking it apart from its hinges, he widened his eyes at the sight that greeted him.

Through the crack of the window he had left open for a breath of fresh air before going to sleep, hundreds of purple butterflies Adrien had kept firmly sealed in his apartment had flown to nighttime Paris, inevitably unfolding the events which were to follow.


End file.
